เข้าสู่ระบบZayne’s POVI don’t call ahead. I don’t give him the courtesy of warning. Because he didn’t give me that, not when he rewrote my mind and buried my memories. Certainly not when he turned my reality into something I couldn’t even trust.So when I step into Dr. Pierce’s office in Fairview, I don’t hesitate. I push the door open hard. The sound echoes against the walls, sharp and violent.He looks up, surprised, but not shocked. And that pisses me off more than anything else, because it means he expected this. At some point, at some time. He knew this day would come.“Zayne,” he says calmly, setting his pen down.Too calm, like I’m still just another patient walking in for a session.“You should’ve called.”I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “You should’ve left my mind alone.”Silence, thick and heavy. He studies me carefully, trying to read what I know. How much I know, how far I’ve gotten. Too bad for him, I know enough.“You remember,” he says quietly.Not a question, a statement. My
Zayne POVI didn't make it home, I tell myself I will.I even get into the car, start the engine, pull out into traffic—but somewhere between the first turn and the second, I know I’m not going anywhere that requires me to pretend I’m fine.So I circle back. Park, kill the engine and sit.Hands resting on the steering wheel, fingers tight, breath too shallow for the silence that surrounds me. There’s a pressure building again, not the distant kind. Or the kind I can push aside with work, distraction or routine.This one is immediate, like something is knocking from the inside, demanding to be let through. I close my eyes.“Not here,” I mutter under my breath.But it doesn’t listen, it never does. It doesn’t care about timing or setting or whether I’m ready. It just comes at me hard. —Sound first, a sharp noise, door slamming open. The memory snaps into place so suddenly it makes my chest jerk. My hand tightens on the wheel, and then, I’m not in the car anymore.—A hallway, narrow,
Isla POVI don’t tell Zayne where I’m going. Not because I’m hiding it, or because I don’t trust him. But because I don’t know what I’m about to find. And I don’t think I can handle his reaction on top of mine if it’s… bad. And something tells me it will be. My hands tighten slightly around the small box sitting in my lap as I drive. I haven’t opened it in years, not properly.Not beyond the surface. Because everything inside it belonged to a version of my life I thought I understood. My father.Simple, ordinary. Except now, none of those words feel right anymore. I pull into the driveway of my old house slowly. The place looks the same, like time just… stopped here.Like nothing inside these walls ever changed, but I know better now. I step out of the car, the air feels different here. Like the house itself is holding onto something.Something I’ve never really looked at, not until now. The door creaks softly when I push it open. That sound alone is enough to tighten something in my
Zayne POVI don’t remember the drive, the traffic, the turns. Not even how many times my phone buzzed in my pocket before I finally silenced it. All I know is, by the time I step into Isla’s apartment, my chest feels heavier than it did an hour ago.Because I have more now. More memories, more pieces. And somehow…that makes everything worse.The door is unlocked. I push it open slowly.“Isla?” My voice is low, careful. Like I don’t want to startle her.She’s in the living room, sitting on the couch. Phone still in her hand. But she’s not looking at it, she’s staring straight ahead. Like she’s been in the same position for a while, thinking. Or trying not to.Something in my chest tightens. Because I know that look, I’ve worn it myself too many times.“Hey,” I say.She turns her head slightly. Her eyes meet mine, and that’s when it hits me. She looks… drained. Like something inside her has been pulled too tight for too long.“You’re back,” she says quietly.I nod. “Yeah.”I close the d
Isla POVI don’t realize how much I’ve been holding in until my hands start shaking over something as simple as dialing a number. It shouldn’t feel this hard.Calling Sienna has never felt hard.She’s the one person I’ve always gone to without thinking—no rehearsing, no filtering, no pretending everything is fine when it’s not.But right now…right now it feels like if I say it out loud, it becomes real in a way I can’t undo. My thumb hovers over her name. Sienna, my Best friend, safe place. Home, in human form.I inhale slowly, then press call. It rings once, twice. Three times—“Isla?”Her voice comes through slightly distorted, but still warm, still familiar. Still hers.“You’re calling me this early? Don’t tell me you finally missed me.”A weak breath leaves me. God, I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear her until now.“Hey.”My voice sounds… off. Even to me. There’s a pause on the line. Sienna picks up on things quickly, always has.“…what’s wrong?”There’s no teasing now, no
Zayne POVI don’t leave the office.Not after Elena’s voice—sharp, furious, accusing—sounded through everything I thought I understood about that night. I should go home, I should call Isla. I should… do something normal.But nothing about this is normal anymore. So I stayed alone. Because if the memories are coming back, I don’t want to interrupt it. I don’t want to lose whatever thread I’ve finally managed to pull loose.The lights are dim now, the sun already slipping lower outside the glass walls. Time has passed. I just haven’t been paying attention to it. I’m sitting on the floor this time, against the couch. Tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. Like the position somehow makes it easier to breathe, and easier to think. It doesn’t.My head still feels heavy, tight even. Like something inside it is pressing outward, trying to break through. And I’m done resisting it, no more easing into it. No more waiting for it to come naturally.If the truth is buried in there, I’m dragging it out.
Isla The drive to Dustfield was long and silent. Rain pelted the windshield, blurring streetlights into golden smears. My chest ached, and tears refused to stop. Every blink smeared them further, leaving streaks across my cheeks. My thoughts were a tangled mess of betrayal, fear, and curiosity. A
Isla’s POVI slipped on a puddle and caught myself against the brick wall, rain slamming down so hard it blurred everything into streaks of neon and shadow. My glasses fogged over completely, turning the alley into a smeared mess of reflections. Every step splashed water up my calves, heels wobblin
IslaI walked out of the corridor, adjusting my blazer with shaking fingers, trying to calm the burn still crawling up my neck. My lips still tingled. Silas had really— God, I couldn’t even think it without my stomach twisting. One more minute in that room and I might’ve forgotten where I was. He h
Isla’s POV I shot up in bed so fast the sheets tangled around my legs and yanked me sideways. My hand was already sliding down before my eyes even opened all the way, pressing against the wet spot in my underwear as the memory hit like a freight train. Last night. Silas. Me telling him no. “Shit







